Phobias
by mandaree1
Summary: Cassidy Williams used to be afraid to die. Now she wasn't.


** Disclaimer: I don't own Scooby Doo Mystery Incorporated**

**Title: Phobias.**

**Summary: Cassidy Williams used to be afraid to die. Now she wasn't.**

**Author's Note: I don't know what it is, but whenever I watch Scooby Doo I end up writing something about either Velma or Cassidy. Here you go, three-thousand plus words of slightly angst-y Cassidy Williams and the gang.**

**...**

The Freak's scythe glittered in the moonlight.

For the first time in her life, Cassidy felt fear. Earth-shattering, heart-stopping fear.

The kind of fear you never forget.

Cassidy Williams was afraid to die. It was kind of ironic, in it's own way, she was sure; but she couldn't think. Her mind had gone blank.

Blood pounded in her ears. She could barely hear the tell-tale thump of books and papers hitting the ground, could barely focus enough to realize_ holy crap, we lost. It's over._

Her mother was slowly falling apart at the seams. She hadn't been the same since her husband had walked out on her. And neither had Cassidy.

Her mother was a matter of time; another adult in Crystal Cove that hated them and made their lives miserable. She loved her mother, and would never purposely send pain and sorrow her way, but if The Freak was _this_ desperate, then there had to be a reason. Something, given enough time and luck, could be used against him.

But her sister. Her younger, innocent, so much better than her in every way _sister_. Cassidy couldn't do that to her; couldn't put her in any kind of danger.

_Give him the disk._ She pleaded mentally._ Judy, swallow your pride, forget the rules we made about never helping the enemy, and just give him the disk piece, **please**._

Cassidy had never been more thankful in her life when Judy bowed her head in defeat and handed over the piece of disk without a word.

No, scratch that. She'd never been more thankful then when The Freak lowered the scythe and calmly escorted them out of the caves and Crystal Cove with a warning to never return.

* * *

><p>Cassidy was hungrier than she'd ever felt before in her life.<p>

But, then again, hunger was logical, wasn't it? They were 'runaways', teenagers that were still to young and not capable of getting a job unless they entered a school system (and _that_ couldn't happen until after they'd foraged some documents, and it could never be a public one. Online education would just have to do), and they had no real clue how to fend for themselves.

Oh, screw logic. Logic wasn't going to get rid of the hunger pangs.

Cassidy didn't know a lot of things, anymore. She didn't know where the baggy shirt she was wearing came from, for instance. Or her ratty jeans. She didn't know when she'd eat her next meal,_ if_ she'd eat a next meal, or where Ricky went when he disappeared to search for food.

And Cassidy didn't want to know.

She went out to search for food to, obviously. She searched through trash cans and pillaged fast food bags from oblivious passerby. But sometimes Ricky left late at night, alone, and came back in the late afternoon, looking older and more beaten then when he left.

Cassidy valued her life, so she didn't ask. She didn't want to know.

"Hey."

"Hey." She doesn't look at him. She can't stand to see him how he was; beaten down and broken, just like her. "Find anything?"

Ricky sighs and slumps, shaking his head. Cassidy wonders if Judy and Brad had this much trouble getting on (they'd separated a few weeks earlier, and she hadn't heard anything about them since), if they were also hiding out in some ratty apartment with just a broken TV and couch for furniture, hungry and confused, wearing clothes they'd stolen from who-knows-who.

Probably not. Judy and Brad had always been the lucky ones.

Ricky fell onto the worn old couch next to her, thin arms resting on his gangly knees. Most of it's genetics, her mind reminds her- both of his parents were naturally scrawny-, but the rest of it...

She shivers, pulling her knees closer to her chest as though they could possibly warm the cold rock sunk deep in her chest that she once called her heart.

"You okay, C?"

"Ricky, I-I..." She broke off, burying her head in her arms. "I'm _scared_, Ricky."

"Yeah, me too." Was all he said, but Ricky had never been one for words. Blunt and to the point; that was Ricky.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, comforting and being comforted.

There wasn't any 'it's okay' or 'we'll get through this.' Ricky wasn't a liar; he didn't know any more than she did, and he wasn't afraid to admit it.

"Ricky, what will our _parents_ say? What will my_ mother_ say?" Finding them like this, dead in some abandoned apartment in clothes that weren't even their's and no reason _why_.

Another horrifying thought dawned on her. "What will_ little sis'_ think?"

Because she can't do that to her little sister. Can't make her go through her older sister's funeral with no clue _why_ or _what happened_ while judgmental adults click their tongues and tell each other lies. She just... can't.

Ricky shook his head, as though he couldn't quite process the thought himself, and pulled back, face hardened with determination.

"Cassidy, listen to me. We won't die. Not here, not now, not like this."

And he meant it, because Ricky never told a lie.

* * *

><p>Cassidy lived with Ricky for three years. They were some of the hardest years of her life.<p>

Ricky fell into himself. He became more and more prone to lying and manipulating people to get what he wanted, and spent hours locked away fiddling with his machines. Cassidy didn't doubt that he was doing something that would eventually bring in money and take some of the stress off their lives, but she was more worried about the then and now instead of the distant future.

She was practically their only source of income. Working nonstop, multiple jobs with all kinds of rules and regulations and uniforms. Cassidy was sick of only sleeping a couple of hours over a few _days_, of only eating when she was driving to her next job or on break, of never seeing their apartment (which never was, and never would be, home).

Whatever Ricky was doing was in his room was expensive, and it was draining her and her paycheck faster then it was making them any money.

They argued often. Cassidy wanted help paying for the bills or with her job or just with picking up dinner, Ricky wanted to be left alone to sink into his revenge-filled fantasies. It was doomed from the start.

But then... he hit her.

Nothing big or life-altering. He didn't rear back and punch her or kick her to the floor or anything like in the over-dramatic movies. He just... smacked her, open-handed.

It was the first, and last time Ricky ever hit her.

But that was more than enough for her. If there was even the possibility, however small, that she could fall into the cycle of abuse she'd heard about so much in school and books, then she wouldn't stay, no matter _how_ much she loved Ricky.

Ricky looked just as horrified as she felt, but she refused to let that sway her. She was just... done.

She didn't bother to pack her bags. She didn't have anything worth taking. Instead, she stood up, told him it was over, that he could find _somebody else_ to work to death, and sprinted out the door.

And then... Cassidy was alone. For the first time in her life, she was completely and utterly alone. And she was afraid.

But she didn't dare go back, if only to preserve her pride. Cassidy was used to fear by now.

She could handle it on her own.

* * *

><p>One of the many things on Cassidy's bucket list was 'Never, <em>ever<em>, go back to Crystal Cove. Ever.'

And, yes, the evers were absolutely necessary.

It wasn't about the curse or losing herself to the darkness threatening to engulf them all, or even about the treasure. It was about The Freak's scythe glittering in the moonlight, the newspapers reminding her that he had yet to be caught, the shivers she got around harvesting time in farmer country. The little things that reminded her of her place in Crystal Cove history.

Speaking of Crystal Cove, they had mystery-solvers-to-be's. She'd seen them in a small news article. ("The abnormal in the abnormal town of Crystal Cove.") And, apparently, so had Ricky.

"You're better with kids." Was his excuse for ripping her away from her quiet life to thrust her wholeheartedly into a dangerous mystery she'd long torn herself away from.

It wasn't worth it. Even if she did get the treasure, Judy and Brad (or maybe Ricky and/or Pericles) would just kill her and take it for themselves. Cassidy wanted to live, so she didn't stick her nose where it didn't belong.

"You've got an alias and everything. No one will know it's you."

True, her mother was dead, and her sister...

She didn't want to talk about it.

Either way, the generation that had searched so insistently for the lost Mystery Incorporated was waning, squinty-eyed with slowly diminishing memory spans. Not that they were old or anything, it was just a natural part of growing up and getting older.

She should know. It'd been years since she'd worn glasses, but she still needed to squint to read small print. (alright, so her contact lens prescription was really old. So what?)

"Well? You've come this far, haven't you?"

And she certainly wished she hadn't.

She tried to remember the days when Ricky didn't sneer when he spoke, the days when she was still oblivious and happy and comfortable in her cocoon. It didn't work.

Cassidy was an old gypsy now. She wouldn't be comfortable, sitting in the same house for a long period of time.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed images of curved blades out of her mind and took that first step over the line that separated Crystal Cove from the world.

There. She'd done it. Like a kid with a scary dare.

"See? I told you it was safe."

And she didn't believe it for a second; because Ricky never told the truth.

* * *

><p>Angel Dynamite wasn't a very social person.<p>

Oh, she talked plenty, but only on the radio. The people of Crystal Cove immediately labeled her as an outsider ("You'll be able to 'sympathize' with them better." She hated Ricky), and that was fine. They left her to her own devices, and she left them to theirs.

She wasn't afraid, or anything like that. She just... didn't want to be recognized. Yeah, that was it.

Being recognized was the_ last_ thing she wanted to do.

Of course, that didn't mean she didn't go to community events or DJ at games or anything like that. She needed to_ act_ semi-normal, at least.

The kids had noticed her. She could feel their stares on her back like everyone elses.

_Why_ did she_ ever_ listen to Ricky? She should know better by now.

There was a sharp tap on her shoulder. Angel wheeled around.

The red-head (Ricky, in an attempt to make her laugh with his strange sense of humor, hadn't told her their names. "Guess." He'd chuckled. "They're in enough newspapers, they might as well be famous.") raised her hands in defense, eyes widening at her quick movements. "Er, sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you."

Angel blinked (_Good-god-one-of-them's-**talking**-to-me-Ricky-didn't-prepare-me-for-this_). "Uh, no problem."

"Anyway, you're the DJ for K-Ghoul, right?"

Sassy. Act sassy. Angel cocked her hips to the side and put her hand on her side, watching the girl's eyes flash briefly over her flashy outfit. "What gave it away?"

"Your, uh, winning personality?" The red-head tried, and Angel had to swallow a laugh. The girl shook her head. "Anyway, I was wondering if me and a couple of friends could use your booth during the next game? We won't get in your way, I promise."

Angel cocked her head to the side. "What for?" She asked, no unkindly.

The girl, who's name she soon finds out is Daphne, launches into a long-winded explanation of how there was something suspicious happening at the school games and how someone named Velma had decided that getting a good view of the action would be in their best interest, and who had a better view than the DJ?, and that they would've asked someone else but she was the only one in town that they had even the slightest chance of getting a yes from, but Angel could hardly understand what she was saying. She was to caught up in the whole holy-crap-they're-going-to-be-in-my-booth,-all-of-them,-those-kids-that-were-so-much-like-them-but-so-different-and-Ricky-didn't-prepare-her-for-this,-dangit, feeling.

But she wasn't afraid. No, that would be silly. She's an adult now; adults aren't allowed to be afraid.

Her pride made her nod her head. After all, it was about time that she started socializing with her fellow Crystal Covers, it wouldn't_ kill_ her to make some friends.

And if those friends ended up being the very people she was trying to protect, then it was even better.

* * *

><p>Angel was brought back to Crystal Cove to take care of the new Mystery Incorporated.<p>

Well, technically, she was brought back to spy on them, inform Mr. E when their interest in the treasure was kindled, contact him with any new breakthroughs they had, etc, but she preferred the phrase 'taking care of them' better. It sounded more... personal, that way, as it should. They _were_ human beings, after all. And kids at that.

But even still, she wasn't expecting to have to_ take care_ of them. Not like this; not as their friend.

She was their hiding place, their helpful hint-giver, their _friend_.

Angel hadn't had friends in a very long time.

She should have known that she would get in to deep. She had always been a sucker for the underdogs; it was part of the reason she'd gotten along so well with the original Mystery Incorporated (before, well, you know...)

Ricky knew it to, but the jerk didn't care, so long as he got what he wanted. He probably wouldn't even care if the treasure got the kids killed; got _her_ killed.

She_ tried_ to push them away, but it wasn't possible. She didn't have it in her. They were just so_ trusting_ and they accepted Angel Dynamite even with all her flaws and would probably even _miss_ her when she was mostly gone in the wake of Cassidy Williams.

Man, was she a depressing individual.

They'd never questioned her. They had the odd moment of suspicion, just like anyone else, but they thought she was trustworthy.

Well, they thought wrong.

* * *

><p>"...I'm saying Angel Dynamite isn't your real name. I think your real name is Cassidy Williams, and you're one of the members of the original Mystery Incorporated that vanished in the caves beneath Crystal Cove. Tell me I'm wrong,<em> friend<em>."

Angel's heart stopped.

Velma. Of course Velma would figure it out; she _was_ her smarter, less adjusted and more socially awkward counterpart. An all around wiser and better person.

A wiser and better person who was _pissed_ at her.

"Angel? Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me this isn't logical; that I'm jumping to conclusions. Say it."

She wanted a way out. So did Angel.

"Angel, _say_ something."

Angel was caught. Plain and simple. She couldn't lie now; not to Velma, to the girl who'd spent so many hours on her couch, reading books or looking through evidence, the girl always willing to listen when she spoke, no matter how stupid the words coming out of her mouth were. Not anymore.

Angel slumped against the table and put a hand to her head.

"Just... keep this on the down low for a little while, alright?"

"Angel?" Her voice sounded appalled. Angel couldn't really blame her.

"I want to tell the gang myself, if you'll let me. But... Velma, it's_ not safe_. Not yet."

Angel was afraid, and, for the first time in many years, more than willing to admit it.

* * *

><p>Cassidy wasn't afraid to die. Uneasy, yes, but who wouldn't be?<p>

She hadn't realized she wasn't afraid until she'd helped load the kids into Moby, bending down to give Daphne one last piece of advice (she wasn't wise by any means, but she sure could've used a person like herself when _she_ was a teenager) before stepping back and grabbing the manual override.

She felt... calm. Eerily so. And more than a little frightened.

Never let it be said that Cassidy wasn't a coward. She was only human, with human flaws and human fears. But that was okay. She'd long accepted it.

She was done with being afraid. Done hiding her face and letting the people she cared about most stumble around blindly. Even if she couldn't light their way, she could at least do this for them, right?

Because they could be it. The real treasure-finders. The real deal. The people she and Judy and Brad and Ricky and even Pericles could have only _dreamed_ to be.

They could make a difference.

She wasn't lying when she told them she was a fast swimmer. But she knew she wouldn't have the _time_ to swim. If the explosion didn't kill her, then the pressure surely would. (Hey, at least her chances of drowning were slim, right?)

And that was okay. Cassidy hadn't made her peace or anything sappy like that (If only, if only), but she _was_ ready.

There was a boom, the sound of shattering glass, and a second of pain. Cassidy wasn't sure if she screamed or not.

And then... nothing.

* * *

><p>Some days, it felt like her life had only lasted an instant. Lately, those days had become much more frequent.<p>

It had all started when she woke up one morning and had the sudden thought '_Everything feels so... fake._' The thought had been lingering ever since.

Things felt to simple, to happy, like there should be a hidden twist or a dark secret somewhere along the way. Cassidy wasn't quite sure why she felt that way- things had been going good for her since day one-, but she couldn't help but feel that Ricky felt the same.

Neither of them talked about it. They didn't have to.

But then she overheard one of Ricky's employees. Mercy? Melanie? Something like that. She was a teenager who was working on an apprenticeship. Something about one of her best friends taking off with a group of kids for some impromptu road trip to go to some fancy boarding school without so much as a goodbye.

They were running away. Cassidy wasn't sure why she knew it, or how she knew it, but she knew it was the truth.

Then came a name._ Velma_.

Then another, and another.

_Shaggy._

_Freddy._

_Daphne._

_Scooby._

Cassidy wasn't sure where the names came from, but soon they were floating around her head. Those names... they weren't made up. She wasn't sure how, and she wasn't sure when, but she knew them.

And, a little voice whispered in the back of her head, they know _why_.

They knew why, and that's why they ran. They couldn't stand to be in this place, knowing _why_ and not being able to tell anyone.

She asked Ricky later that night if the names sounded familiar. He said yes.

_They know._

She doesn't say it out loud. She doesn't have to. Ricky's already come to the same conclusion. He probably came up with the names around the same time she did.

Instead of saying anything, he turns out the light and settles down to sleep. Cassidy does the same.

Of course, the night is filled with nothing but nightmares. She and Ricky have been having them for months now, little things filled with fear and confusion with no clear picture to go on.

Cassidy wanted to know why, she really did, wanted to understand the memories pricking at the edges of their conscious, hers but not hers, his but not his, but...

_Boom. Glass. A second of pain._

If she knew, then...

_"What... had... lost a long time ago."_

Finding out would stop the questions making it impossible for her to sleep soundly, but...

_"Don't make the same mistake I did."_

Cassidy rolled over, pulled the covers closer to her chin, and resigned herself to another restless night.

Cassidy Williams wasn't afraid to die. She was afraid of knowing the truth.

**Author's Note: If you couldn't tell, that last part was from the alternate future, when Cassidy and Ricky got married (they didn't change their last names- it made them uncomfortable) (and, yes, that was a not-so-subtle barb to their alias) and they run the company together.**

**First non-fluffy thing I've written in awhile. It's kind of strange to spread my wings of darkness and shade the landscape of fluffy clouds and unicorns a bit. =)**

**No flames! Don't like don't read! Review! **


End file.
